


Gold on the Ceiling

by stubliminalmessaging



Series: Kink Meme Fills [15]
Category: The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Affairs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BAD FEELINGS OKAY, Dean is a PR agent, Dry Humping, Infidelity, M/M, Modern office AU, Oral Sex, Richard is a struggling actor, Unresolved Sexual Tension, a cup of cheap coffee was sacrificed for the sake of social interaction, almost but not quite sex, bad feelings all around, big gay pizza date, brokeback mountain feels, chapter 2 is a big burrito of richard being sad, dimples of death, fancy dinner date, hot couch makeouts, million watt smiles that light thine loins aflame, poor bb rich, pushy bottom Richard, r.i.p. cup of coffee, respect of sexual limits, too precious for this world, your sacrifice will not be forgotten
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2017-12-20 05:37:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stubliminalmessaging/pseuds/stubliminalmessaging
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Under very unusual circumstances Richard Armitage, a struggling but very talented actor who can't seem to catch a break, meets Dean O'Gorman, a millionaire PR agent. Richard can't understand why such a handsome wealthy man has any interest in him, and Dean wants to know who hurt Richard and made him so nervous about relationships, and where can he find them so he can punch them in the teeth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> THE KINK MEME GOT ME AGAIN. The actual prompt had a lot less to it than this story does, but here's the general idea: "Dean is a flashy/eccentric, millionaire playboy. Richard is a shy, struggling, talented actor who can never catch a break (internal politics? other actors offering "a little something extra" to get their roles? etc). Not an easy relationship, but somehow, it ends up working out.
> 
> Sex optional, but would appreciate top!Dean/bottom!Richard, please."
> 
> And I went a little bit crazy plotting it out so I've got a few chapters planned. However I'm pretty notorious for impulsively adding things and not sticking to the number of chapters I intend to write, but we'll see how this goes.
> 
> I'll update warnings and characters and pairings as I go - because eventually there will be sex and other characters. Hope you like it, OP!

Richard was nervous. Or, well, maybe not nervous, but definitely worked up. The past few auditions he’d gone out to had been a bust; he was either too tall or too white or to British or whatever other factor of himself that he had no hope in changing. They all said ‘no man, you’re really good, but you’re not quite what we’re looking for’ which was a polite way of saying ‘we’ve already got our guy, so sod off.’

Which was never good, but it would have been a little easier to move on if he hadn’t been unemployed for the past two months and if his landlord, phone company, and credit card company weren’t trying to wring cash out of him all at once. The last time he’d taken on an in-between job as a waiter at a pub out of complete desperation, he’d gotten a call-back the next week and had been too busy with rehearsals to keep his pub job. Side jobs had a habit of not working for him and acting was his passion, so he stuck it out through the rough times, but there seemed to be no hope this time around.

So no, nervous wasn’t the right word. Richard was _desperate_.

Desperate enough and high-strung enough to rush into the audition room when his name was called and collide head-on with the person on their way out. It all happened so fast that it was a blur of him nearly knocking over the shorter man, his entire coffee staining the front of his suit, empty cup falling to the floor and leaking coffee detritus on the carpet. The first thing that occurred to Richard after the waves of crippling shame that threatened to sweet him out to sea and drown him (which he would have welcomed at this point) was that the dark gray suit jacket, pressed white shirt, and front of the man’s trousers were soaked. It all looked very expensive and now that he looked at the man he was so fucking handsome and he was staring down at his coffee-covered front with an unreadable expression and Richard just wanted to sink into the floor and never come out.

“I am so sorry,” he breathed, his hands coming up to do something, though he had no idea what so he just stood there holding his hands up like an idiot, stammering and near-hyperventilating. “I am _so_ sorry.”

“Nah, mate, it’s nothing,” the man said in an accent – Australian or New Zealand, Richard wasn’t sure – that caused a fluttering sensation in Richard’s chest.

“I am so _so_ sorry,” Richard wanted to hit himself for saying it a third time but his brain was lagging and he could not seem to word at the moment.

“It’s not a big deal,” the man insisted, to which Richard thought a firm _yesitisyesitisyesitis_ in his head. “It’s not like I’ve only got one suit, and I can always get this one cleaned.”

“Then please let me at least pay to have it cleaned,” Richard blurted out and regretted it almost instantly. He definitely couldn’t afford that (actually, he had no idea how much getting a suit cleaned would cost, since he only owned one and he hadn’t had reason to wear it since he’d moved to America) and he would just embarrass himself if the man took him up on the offer.

“You really don’t have to, it’s nothing,” he offered Richard a little smile and the Brit felt utterly charmed by it. “I promise, I’ve got it.”

“Then just let me-“ Richard got out his wallet and rooted for bills, gathering them up and pressing them into the man’s hand. The man looked down at the handful of bills ($23, mostly singles) with a bemused smile. Richard could tell by the look that it was nowhere near enough to pay for the damage and if he could have deflated any more, he would have.

Still, the man pocketed the cash and Richard made to skitter into the audition room – the entire reason he was here, which he’s almost forgotten about entirely – when a hand on his bicep stopped him. He looked down the regard the shorter blond man (a blue-eyed angel, really. He was very attractive) who was holding something out to him. It took a moment for Richard to register that it was a business card and that in the time Richard had spent floundering he had scribbled his number on the back of it.

Richard looked up from the card and the smile he was met with made him weak in the knees. Eyes blue like the ocean, long fluttering lashes, adorable little smile-crinkles by his eyes, a perfect bright smile framed by plump (kissable? Definitely fuckable, but Richard had to banish that though for the sake of his sanity) lips and damning dimples. Richard felt struck absolutely smitten and he nearly dropped the card as he took it from the man.

Next he was offered a hand, which he was quicker in taking up and shaking firmly. He tried to ignore how soft and warm his skin was and he missed the contact when they parted.

“Dean O’Gorman,” the man said mid-shake and Richard provided his own in return. The icing on the cake was when Dean told him to text him whenever then clapped him on the back and wished him luck on his audition. He told him thanks and he could that he could not possibly say it enough, because a week later he got a call-back from that audition. Despite the spilled coffee and ruined suit, Dean O’Gorman came into Richard’s life like a gorgeous blond omen of good things yet to come.


	2. Chapter 2

To say that Graham disagreed would be an understatement.

When he’d called to check up on Richard and see how he did at his audition, Richard recalled the whole embarrassing coffee debacle. He got all the way to Dean giving him his number (leaving out the part about his cripplingly bright and sweet smile) and paused.

“…and? He gave you what? A smack? What?” Graham prompted, and Richard could tell he was working on something else while they talked. He hadn’t been when he first called, but he was for at least the last five minutes of Richard’s story.

“I wish you’d listen to me more,” Richard sighed. “You’re the one who asked about the audition.”

“I am listening,” Graham insisted. “Solitaire, I swear. Gotta keep my hands busy.”

“And how’s that going?” Richard wasn’t entirely satisfied with the reasoning, but grinding away at that particular problem wasn’t the best thing to do when Graham was four days smoke-free and hating every second of it. “Still want to strangle anyone at work who talks to you?”

“Pretty much,” Graham let out a lot stressful breath and Richard could tell he had something in his mouth – probably a pen, by the way it whistled very slightly with his exhale. “Want to meet up for dinner? I worked my frustration out at work and now I’m starved.”

“Yeah, sure. Usual place?”

“It’s a date. See you there.”

“See you,” Richard said, but the line was dead.

Graham had stood him up accidentally before, so Richard was relieved when he saw Graham’s truck in the parking lot when he stepped off the bus. The man himself was waiting huddled in his coat just outside the doors, resolutely fidgeting with his phone and trying not to watch the people around him sucking on their cigarettes. For someone trying to quit smoking, he sure surrounded himself with a masochistic level of temptation, Richard thought as he strode up to the man.

Upon seeing him, Graham detached himself from the group and met Richard halfway, and kissed him like their relationship wasn’t completely wrong. The stupid smile on his face when they parted made Richard almost feel like this thing they had could work out. Graham even held his hand as they went into the diner and were led to a seat by the window.

The waiter started them off with drinks (Richard had water with a thick slice on lemon and Graham had a cup of coffee even though it was sort of late for it). Then Graham popped Richard’s little romantic bubble of happiness by looking at his phone and saying; “I can’t be too long, I’ve got a Skype date with Tyson and Emily tonight.”

Richard nodded slowly and sort of numbly. “Alright.”

“But if you want…” Graham murmured, moving his hand and placing it on top of Richard’s on the tabletop. “We can get dinner to go and go back to my place.”

“Then why didn’t you just invite me to your place?” Richard asked. Graham didn’t make him feel worthless often but it hurt so much more when it was him.

“Honestly, I forgot,” Graham admitted sheepishly and despite his misery Richard couldn’t help but feel affection for him. He wasn’t scatterbrained a lot: being a personal trainer meant he had to keep schedules and arrange appointments and he was very good at it. But when he did get in a forgetful streak, he was _awful_. He’d go to work and forget his shoes or his phone or his keys, and even once last week he’d forgotten to put on underwear. And quitting smoking brought it out even worse since he was dealing with irritability and mind-wracking cravings. He squeezed Richard’s hand and looked him in the eye; “It’s hard to think about them when I’m always thinking about you.”

_Except you always do_ , Richard thought.

Still, he’d missed Graham over the past few days when he’s been busy with work and Richard had been preparing for his audition and hunting for new jobs. So without much fuss he agreed to go home with Graham and when the waiter came to take their orders they specified that they would be getting it to go.

Graham finished his coffee and their food arrived and before long they were at Graham’s place – or, parked in the underground lot at his apartment complex, at least. Richard made to open the door but Graham turned in his seat and slid a hand up to grip the back of Richard’s neck. They shared a crotch-meltingly hot kiss and Richard’s cock was quick to remind him that he hadn’t gotten laid in four whole days.

“We need to go upstairs,” Richard panted, nuzzling Graham’s bearded chin, and he could feel Graham’s muscles twitch into a smile.

-

Richard was naked before he reached the bedroom, and he and Graham separated as the Scot went to the bathroom to get the supplies they needed. By the time Graham came back into the bedroom with the lube and condoms, Richard was on his hands and knees on the bed, fucking himself with two long, spit-slicked fingers.

Graham kneeled on the bed and unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. He tugged his cock out of his boxers and held it as an offering to Richard. He took it eagerly, sloppily sucking it down and choking on it and his own moans.

In a thick voice, Graham told Richard to finish getting himself ready because he couldn’t wait to get inside him. Richard moaned and tried to nod, gurgling out nonsense around Graham’s girth.

Once Richard was roughly fucking himself with three of his fingers and traded his cock-muffled whimpers of discomfort for ones of another kind altogether, he told Richard to stop and get in whatever position he wanted to be fucked in.

Richard knew that if he was getting fucked, and they didn’t have time to waste, there was only one position Graham would have him in. When he was bent over, either on his hands and knees or bent at the waist over something, Graham couldn’t see his face. Richard fancied that he couldn’t fuck Richard without caring and avoiding eye contact with him let him pretend he wasn’t hurting someone he cared about. Fancied was the key word. It was probably closer to the truth that he felt too guilty for a quick fuck, or perhaps it was as simple as him not being able to come when he could see Richard’s face. Maybe he imagined someone else. Whatever the reason, Graham only fucked Richard face-to-face when they were drunk. Or, at least, when he was.

Richard was brought out of his own mind when he had a sudden faceful of pillow and a lovely thick cock sliding inside of him. He gripped at the sheets desperately and panted against the pillow when Graham began to move, effectively short-circuiting his brain.

From that point forward it was a blur for Richard. He remembered everything, of course, all the movement, heat, sweat, pain, friction, and breathless maddening pleasure. He felt it all and enjoyed every second of it, but before he knew it he was laying on his side on the cooling sheets, pointedly avoiding his own messy wet spot.

Graham spared him no more thought than to tell him to be quiet on his way out because he was Skyping right away. Richard made a noise and nodded and received a fond pat on the rear before Graham was gone.

Richard managed not to cry until he was out of Graham’s apartment and waiting at the bus stop. It would be been stupid for him to cry at Graham’s. After all, what middle-aged man cared more about his secret gay lover than his wife and kids?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, Dean.

The first text Richard received from Dean was a cheerful _hey, how was your audition?_ that he got the morning after the audition. He didn’t answer it until two weeks later, after his latest evening spent with Graham. It was better than their usual dates (not dates, Graham insisted, but Richard didn’t know what else to call them) because Graham was in a good mood and for whatever reason he wasn’t talking about his wife and kids. Richard loved it when he didn’t talk about them.

Graham was from Scotland and prior to moving to America he went through a mid-life crisis. He had a string of affairs and quit his office job and buried himself in his own little world of fitness. He tired himself out working out and fucking and eventually his wife got fed up and told him that if he couldn’t straighten up, he could get the fuck out instead. Like any man, he didn’t really want to leave his wife, so he begged and pleaded until she finally agreed to take him back under very specific conditions. He had to a get another job and he had to settle down.

Graham, of course, saw this as an opportunity. He told her he would, that he would get a steady job and live a steady life, but she had to let him do it his way. His way meant moving to America and starting his own business as a personal trainer. He deposited cheques to his wife every couple of weeks and as far as she was aware, he was doing right by his word.

She knew nothing about Richard, of course. It she was to have ever made a connection, Graham would have steadfastly denied it anyhow. He lived honestly in America, with the exception of Richard, his dirty little secret.

Richard had known that going in. He had gotten in touch with Graham through a friend and hired him as a trainer to keep in shape for a particularly involved role of his. He trained regularly with Graham got about a month before the older man asked him to come to his place for a free yoga session because he wanted to try the program out on someone. Graham was a bit expensive so Richard jumped at the chance for a free session. Little did he know it had been a front to allow Graham to effectively seduce him. He was extremely responsive to the Scot’s advances, and at first he thought it was a dream come true; his ridiculously handsome personal trainer wanted _him_ , but then the truth of the wife and kids came out. Even then, Graham had suggested that perhaps they could come up with an arrangement. He said he had thought about it a long time, and that he wanted to work something out with Richard. At the time Richard had been just lonely enough to agree, and before long he had fallen hard.

Graham was his addiction, and he knew that eventually would have to quit him, but he didn’t know if he could.

Richard didn’t know if thinking about Graham and generally feeling sorry for himself was what made him finally text Dean back, but he did. He was going a little crazy splitting his life between nothing but work and Graham, and he yearned for even a little social activity. With a gorgeous man, no less.

_went well. i got the role, it’s why i’ve been so slow to answer_ , Richard shot Dean over a text and took a quick shower. When he got out, Dean had replied.

_congrats!! how about that coffee to celebrate?_

Richard cursed his busy rehearsal schedule because he really didn’t have time to meet up with Dean and give him the kind of attention he wanted to give him.

_sorry mate, he texted. got a really packed rehearsal schedule rn. try again next week? tuesday, maybe._

And so it went for the next three weeks. Dean kept changing days and times and between rehearsals and Graham, Richard kept having to turn him down. Dean probably thought he was avoiding him.

A Thursday afternoon before an evening he had planned to spend with graham came to an abrupt crashing halt when Graham called him in the middle of the day’s rehearsal.

“Rich, I’m sorry, but we can’t go out tonight.” He didn’t sound sorry at all.

“What?” Richard asked, trying not to sound too upset but coming off just a little bit hysterical. “Why?”

“Something’s come up.”

“ _Graham_. I moved my rehearsal today to spend tonight with you.”

“I really can’t get out of this, Richard. Sandra managed to get some time off and she and the kids are flying in tomorrow.” Richard wondered if Graham could hear his insides tearing apart in the dead silence on his end. If he did, it didn’t seem to bother him, since he kept on talking. “I haven’t seen them in four months besides Skype and they’re so excited to come and see America. The kids, mostly, but when Sandra called she sounded almost happy about it.”

Richard tuned him out for the rest of the conversation, since listening hurt. He caught snippets of ‘need to book a hotel’ and ‘have to clean up the apartment’ by which he of course meant ‘hide all the evidence of the gay lover.’

When he finally hung up on Graham he didn’t get a call back, but he didn’t expect one anyways. He didn’t cry, either. The first thing he did was text Dean.

_are you free tonight?_

-

By the time Richard had arrived at the bus stop he’d agreed to meet Dean at, he had changed his mind and debated heading home about four times. If Graham was allowed to be married, why couldn’t Richard go out for coffee with handsome blond men? One handsome blond man in particular, since he doubted all handsome blond men would affect him the way Dean did. Even Graham didn’t make him feel exactly the same way at Dean, though on the same level. Just different.

He didn’t know why he was thinking about Graham when he was only going out for coffee with Dean. It wasn’t a date, or anything. Looking like Dean did and (judging by his fancy-ass suit) having money like him, he probably had some supermodel wife with a big fat diamond on her finger. Richard thought back to the day at the audition and he couldn’t remember if Dean had had a ring on, but it didn’t matter. Even if Dean was available, he was off the market for Richard.

Mister Off-the-Market himself stepped out of a taxi a block down and came striding to where Richard cowered in the bus shelter to escape the rain. He wore a disgustingly well-fitting black suit with a forest green shirt and black silk tie. Cripplingly attractive, as always, and Richard felt terribly underdressed in his shirt, tie, cardigan, and jeans. One of these days he’d need to invest in a suit jacket to look decent standing next to this gorgeous bastard.

Not that he’d ever be standing next to the man like _that_ , except maybe in his dreams.

When Dean stepped into the bus shelter Richard extended a hand for a shake and Dean took it and pulled Richard in and gave him a one-armed hug. With their difference in height Richard was gifted with the scent of Dean’s hair, curly and damp at the roots from the humidity and smelling clean and wonderful, got the duration of the hug. They separated and Richard knew he was red. He could have sworn he caught something really quick, like a smug little smirk, lift Dean’s lips for just a second.

“Shall we?” he asked, gesturing grandly to streets beyond them and Richard assented. Before Dean let him step out into the rain he was there, one step ahead, whipping an umbrella out as if from nowhere and holding it for Richard. He chuckled, looking up at the Brit with playful gleaming eyes. “You might have to carry it. It’s a bit of a reach for a little bloke like me.”

Richard took the umbrella from him with only a little awkward fumbling (their hands _touched_ ) and held it above them. Off they went.

“So how have you been over this past month? Besides very good at turning me down, that is.” Richard would have thought he was upset, but the impish smile he wore told another story.

“I really am sorry about all that. I got the role and I’ve been on a hectic schedule of rehearsals and costume fittings and singing lessons. It’s been a bit crazy,” he tried to look as apologetic as he could, and Dean seemed placated. Not that he was really upset in the first place. Richard mourned his own shy awkward nature.

“So are you the Beauty or are you the Beast?” Dean teased.

“I auditioned for Lumiere – the talking candlestick. But the callback was for the role of the Beast so I guess the crew made other plans for me,” Richard answered. “How do you know Peter, anyways?”

“I’m his PR agent,” Dean replied. “I take it you didn’t look at my card, then?”

“Well – uhm – n-no, I just didn’t know you were Peter’s…” He felt dumb and embarrassed but Dean just playfully nudged his shoulder against Richard’s (though actually it was Richard’s bicep) and shoved him gently.

“You can let yourself relax, you know. I’m not going to report to Peter and have you fired for having fun or anything. I just want to take you out and talk to you and do whatever we choose to do from there.”

As if suddenly remembering that they had a destination, Richard looked around them. Dean had been sneakily leading them down streets and around corners and they were deep in the more expensive part of the city. It cost a lost to live here, work here, and just _being_ here made Richard nervous.

Right as he was about the ask Dean where they were going, they were walking up a set of steps into the foyer of a restaurant. _We’re here for coffee_ , Richard reminded himself, but his jaw nearly dropped when he took in the name embroidered on the uniform of the maître d’. The Valley of Imladris was the classiest restaurant in the city and the maître d’ checked his reservation book for a table for two under the name O’Gorman and this was _real_ and _happening_. As another waiter lead them to a candlelit table ( _candlelit_!), Richard, doomed as he was, thought that this was going to be the most expensive cup of coffee he would ever drink.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks the the anon who sent me a message on my fanfic blog to tell me I swapped out 'sheet' for 'sheep' on one occasion. It's been fixed!

“You know, you don’t have to look like you’re going to bolt at any second,” Dean gazed at Richard over the top of his wine glass. “I’m not going to suddenly blink and decide I don’t want you here.”

“Sorry,” Richard took a deep draught from his own glass and stared at his hands where they fidgeted on the table. “I just feel like I don’t belong here. Plus we only came here for coffee and now you’re feeding me wine and trying to coax me into ordering a steak. You really don’t have to.”

“It’s too late for coffee, and I wanted to treat you. I can’t go on a date with a cute guy if I want to?” Richard didn’t correct him on how it wasn’t a date. Just like how he didn’t overthink how his gut jumped at word ‘cute.’ Surely that was unhealthy. “You’re here because I like you,” Dean insisted, swapping his wine glass for the menu and browsing it. “We can go somewhere else if you’re uncomfortable, but I put a lot of work into clearing my schedule and getting this table.”

“…clear your schedule? You were busy?”

“Yeah, but I freed it up as soon as you texted,” When he saw Richard’s face he topped up his mysteriously empty wine glass. “It’s not a big deal, Richard. I promise, it wasn’t anything important. One of the perks of running a very successful PR business is that you’ve always got an assistant to sit in on your meetings and take notes for you.”

“…you have an _assistant_?!”

“Yeah, Fern. Great gal. Little naïve, but reliable.” Dean said, watching as Richard took up his wine glass and gazed into its burgundy depths.

“I don’t even think I could afford the wine I’ve had so far, much less the food,” Richard mumbled, making sure to avoid Dean’s eyes when he looked up so as not to get caught staring.

Dean noticed, of course, and tried not to smirk too openly. Richard was shy enough without thinking Dean was laughing at him. “Then I’m gonna get the bills anyways, might as well enjoy it. Look at the menu and pick something. And I forbid you from looking at prices.”

“You’re spoiling me-“

“I _want_ to spoil you,” Dean said, setting down the menu and reaching with both hands across the table to take Richard’s and stop his fidgeting. Richard’s hands dwarfed Dean’s but he still held them, stroking at the backs of them with his thumbs. “Just this once, Richard. I promise. If you’ll let me take you out again, I promise we’ll go where you want.”

Richard gulped down the last of his wine and nodded. “Fine. You’re going to do whatever you want, anyways.”

“Good man,” Dean said, flashing Richard a winning smile and refilling his glass.

-

Once plied with wine and soft words and touches it wasn’t difficult for Dean to coax Richard back to his apartment. It wasn’t hard to forget about Graham when Dean was helping him into the elevator and pausing down the hall from his apartment to let him recover from his spinning head, rubbing his back all the while. Once there they had more drinks and Dean showed Richard some of his freelance artwork.

They took seats on the couch, close enough that their thighs pressed firmly together. Richard surprised himself by grabbing Dean by the tie and pulling him in for a messy drunken kiss in the middle of a lecture on his photography and which camera he used for what. Dean responded enthusiastically, climbing into Richard’s lap and straddling his waist, pinning him to the back of the couch. There was a fair bit of snogging and dry humping on the couch. The friction was delicious and wrong and frustrating and not at all what either of them needed. Richard had nearly come in his pants by the time Dean suggested that they move to his bedroom. Richard could only pant and nod frantically.

Dean took his hand and lead him to the bedroom like something of a gentleman, then began unbuttoning Richard’s cardigan. All through this he kissed Richard smoothly and kept him occupied. Too occupied to worry and shut down, at the very least. Dean had never tried to seduce someone this shy before, but Richard was definitely worth it.

“Dean,” Richard groaned as he allowed the blond to strip his cardigan off. This cardigan wasn’t his favourite one; his favourite one was his gray one, but Graham had been too rough and torn a button when ripping it off him. Graham. _Graham_. Richard repeated Dean’s name to get his attention. Dean didn’t acknowledge him and only started loosening his tie, mouth working little marks into the side of his neck. Richard gripped him by the shoulders and squeezed. Dean pulled back and looked up at him, blue eyes meeting his own. Richard cleared his throat, nervous again under Dean’s gaze. “Dean. I’m really drunk.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Dean’s grin couldn’t be cheekier if he tried. Drunk or not, Richard would still kiss it off his stupid gorgeous face. “If you don’t want to do this, just tell me. Though I am reminding you that you’re the one who asked me out this time.”

“I do want to,” Richard gnawed on his lower lip and cast his eyes down and past Dean’s shoulder. Dean wanted nothing more than to suck that lip into his own mouth and nip at it himself. “I’d just rather do it on a night where I’m not dizzy and drunk so I can remember every vivid detail.”

Dean let out a breath in a laugh and leaned his head against Richard, his forehead pressing into the Brit’s collarbone. “You are going to give me _the worst_ blue balls ever.”

“Be lying if I said you didn’t do it to me all the time,” Richard mumbled, wrapping his arms around Dean’s shoulders.

Dean moaned pitifully. “You can’t just say things like that, rich. ‘Cause then I’m gonna ask for details and those details will make me so hard I could hump down a brick wall… very unfair with how badly I wanna shag you senseless.”

Richard flushed all the way to the tip of his nose and the tops of his ears. It almost made his next comment worth it despite the crippling arousal it struck into Dean. “Stop wearing suits like that, then.”

While Dean hadn’t exactly made a point to wear his best, most form-fitting suit for this date, he knew he definitely would for any future dates of theirs. “Christ, Armitage, you’re killing me.”

“Likewise,” Richard said, and let out an embarrassing sound when Dean’s hands slid down and grabbed his ass.

“I’m not gonna apologize ‘cause I’m not sorry, but I just had to.” Dean said, holding Richard a bit tighter when he squirmed. “You’ll still stay the night, won’t you? I promise we can get something cheap and greasy for breakfast.”

Richard shook his head. “Early rehearsal.”

“And I have to head into the office early. We can get breakfast and then I’ll even drop you off.” He poured on the charm because even without eventually working towards a fuck with a gorgeous British actor, he still liked him and liked spending time with him. “I’d be disappointed if you pulled a runner on me.”

It took a moment of contemplation before Richard finally responded. “Yes. Fine. My rehearsal is at eight.”

“Perfect, I have a meeting at nine so I’ll have time to eat and get my notes organized.” Dean said, even as he pulled away from Dean and began stripping for bed. He was in much better spirits after having secured a bed partner at the very least. Sex would have been cool too, but he was content to press against Richard and soak in his scent and his warmth and greet him with sweet kisses in the morning.

Richard was slower and shier to start undressing, and adorably enough he turned to face the wall away from Dean. As if the Kiwi wouldn’t check out his ass and his legs (oh sweet baby Jesus, his _legs_ ) and the mouth-watering muscles of his back instead. Nipples were off-limit though, of course. Dean’s mind suggested to him that maybe Richard was hiding them from him for a reason, and he nearly groaned out loud when he thought that maybe they were pierced and he didn’t want Dean to know that he was secretly a kinky fucker. Dean had to stop thinking about that as he went to go brush his teeth.

When he came back he found Richard meticulously folding his clothes and setting them on top of Dean’s nightstand. Even without Dean in the bed he seemed to be stalling and avoiding getting in it. Unfortunately for him he ran out of stalling activities after his clothes were neatly folded and so he stood beside the bed awkwardly. He shivered in his underwear and undershirt and looked at things around the room to avoid looking at Dean and the bed.

Dean pulled back the covers and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Y’know, I don’t bite. Unless you ask, of course.”

Richard flushed deeply and sat down on the edge of the bed gingerly, keeping tense and ready to jump back up like a spooked cat at any moment. The occasions when Graham had let him sleep in his bed had been few and far between. It was a courtesy he was not used to having offered to him.

Dean swung his legs up on the bed and pulled the sheet up to his navel, hoping to lead by example. For all intents and purposes he was successful, because Richard was soon laying down with the sheet pulled up over his chest. Dean wasn’t satisfied though, and while he didn’t expect Richard to crawl into his arms for cuddles straightaway, the Brit was as far away as he could be while still on the bed and Dean could barely even feel his body heat.

The blond rolled onto his side and propped his head up on his elbow. His free hand idly stroked the bed by his hip. Even though Richard was out of cuddling distance, and 90% covered in a sheet, he still made a delicious piece of eye candy. His broad hard shoulders were above the sheet, as well as his breathtakingly well-built arms. Dean could spend hours worshipping that neck and jaw, and every second he wasn’t kissing Richard’s lips was a wasted one. Even under the sheet, Richard was lean and hard and the tantalizing bulge visible at his waist gave Dean some very good ideas that he made sure to store in the back of his mind for another time.

He scooted a tiny bit closer to Richard but stopped when he visibly tensed. He sighed. “Gonna take that as a ‘no, Dean, you can’t even hold me, fuck off.’”

“I’m sorry, Dean.” Richard murmured, rolling onto his side and showing Dean his back. “I just need some time.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Dean said, trying to sound less disappointed than he was. “If you’re not ready, I won’t push it.”

But Richard was sorry. He wished he’d been drunk enough to have an excuse to sleep with Dean. Enough wine to forget about Graham and have sex with someone who wouldn’t keep him a secret. He wished he hadn’t panicked right as he was about to get exactly what he wanted. Mostly he wished he could pluck up the courage to make up his mind. He’d spend his whole life settling for the best he thought he could get and the best he thought he deserved. If he was even half as confident and assertive as Dean he would be able to get what he wanted. Instead he remained weak and indecisive and just a pathetic worm of a person.

He curled in on himself and tried to sleep (early rehearsal and all that) but even the alcohol still sluggishly pumping through him didn’t ease him into sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Richard tried to decide how dismissive Graham would be, on a scale of one to ten, if Richard called him that afternoon at his rehearsal. Richard settled on a solid 9.5 and he would most definitely pretend Richard was someone from work so as not to arouse suspicion from his wife. Richard often wondered why someone who moved across the Atlantic to get away from his wife would cling so desperately to the last shattered remains of a life he hates. Well, Richard _knew_ , of course, that Graham wanted everything at once. A perfect respectable life with a wife and kids and a stable job, _and_ an indulgent life of sin with a secret gay lover and a self-run business where he can work wherever he wants doing whatever he wants. Unfortunately Richard let him have it all, careless about the consequences and how much he got hurt in the process.

In short, Richard never found out how dismissive Graham would be because he never called him. Instead he cleaned up his apartment and pondered a certain other man in his life.

Dean had been good on his word; he had taken Richard for cheap greasy eggs and bacon and filthy strong coffee for breakfast and dropped him off at his rehearsal five minutes early with a sweet little kiss on the cheek and not even a slight push for anything more. Truth be told, Richard would have liked to make out with him again (and have hot sweaty morning sex with him but he wouldn’t admit that) but his thoughts always returned to Graham and made him feel like a cheater and a fool.

How he could feel like a cheater when they had no commitment to each other was a mystery. It was also something he didn’t want to think about, which was why when Dean texted him that night asking how his day went, he asked when the blond was free next.

-

“So I’m doing something right since you asked me out again,” Dean mused as he shoved his hands deep in his pockets. He’d worn jeans today, which made Richard feel much less underdressed.

Richard nodded sheepishly. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea. I haven’t had anything like that-“ (he thought of Graham seducing him under the pretense of free hot yoga and stammered) “i-in a long time.”

“I’m glad, though,” Dean smiled and Richard wasn’t sure whether he wanted to smack it or kiss it off of him. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you’d gotten too caught up and done something you’d regret.”

Richard flushed a little again. “I didn’t want you to be a drunken fuck.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Dean chuckled. “Loud and clear. And just so you know, I wasn’t trying to get you drunk for a shag. I promise.”

“I believe you. You’d have egged me into sex if that’s what you were after.” Graham had a talent for making Richard think he wanted it in the first place. “I’ve known blokes like that, Dean. Trust me, you’re not one of them.”

“You’re making me want to ask about these blokes but I’m not going to,” Dean said as he hit the crosswalk button where they waited. “I don’t want you to think about them while you’re with me. Now, did you have any plans in particular for tonight?”

“Not really,” Richard shrugged as the light changed and he stepped off the curb. “Did you?”

“Greasy delivery pizza and a movie at my place? I’m not fussy, and we’ve got the whole wide world of Netflix available to us.” Dean sighed wistfully. “I, for one, think that sounds wonderful.”

Richard nodded; this was more his speed date-wise, and was likely going to be a good exercise in getting to know Dean a little better. They had talked at their ridiculously expensive dinner but Richard had been slow to loosen up and only after a few glasses of wine did it happen. And then he was babbling and stammering like an idiot while Dean sat by patiently. This could be a less-drunken-car-wreck of a first date. “That sounds good.”

“Perfect. To my place, then?” Dean gestured to his building (which was suddenly just down and across the street) with a little dimply smirk that made Richard’s knees weak. Dean had led them here without Richard realizing it, but Richard wasn’t unhappy. Dean’s plan sounded perfect.

“Haven’t got much of a choice, have I?” Richard asked, grinning sheepishly.

“Oh, come on, I am a pleasure to be around,” Dean insisted as they stopped at the last set of lights before reaching Dean’s apartment. The light changed and they crossed. Once they were walking the last stretch of sidewalk Dean smirked sideways at Richard. “I think you like spending time with me.”

“Hush,” Richard grumbled. “You’ll ruin it.”

“Well you _did_ ask me out, twice,” When Richard gave him a look Dean held up his hands in defense. “Just saying!”

“Well, don’t _just say_. How’s work been lately?” the Brit asked, changing the subject and not even bothering to be subtle about it.

“The same as it always is in the exciting world of public relations. Clients and meetings. Money. More meetings. More money. Scandals and flashy as campaigns. Even more money. Etcetera. How are your rehearsals going?”

“About what you’d expect for a beast. A lot of growling and angsting. Is it bad that sometimes I feel more at home as a giant hairy moping monster than I do in my own skin?”

“I don’t think so. No better than me, pretending to be some professional business bloke when I’m secretly a lazy cocky arsehole.”

“No, PR makes a lot of sense. You’re charming and witty and even if you think you’re an arsehole you’re good with people.” A question occurred to Richard and he wondered why it had never come up on their first date. Oh, right. Yes. Drunk. “Did you always want to do PR?”

“No, but unfortunately there’s not much money in painting and photography unless by some miracle the right person gets their claws into your work.” Dean shrugged. “I could probably get some attention on my work through my company, but it feels like it’d be for the wrong reason. Like ‘hey, isn’t that that painting by that famous PR agent?’ instead of ‘wow, whoever did this is really talented.’ Don’t get me wrong; I’m all for taking the easy way out. But with my art I feel like I need to earn it.”

“That’s admirable,” Richard said as Dean veered off to the front entrance of his building. Three flights of stairs’ worth of easy casual conversation later and they were in Dean’s apartment again, and this time Richard was sober enough to really take it in. Shiny modern appliances cast a halo of reflected light in Dean’s little kitchenette, and based on the immaculate surfaces Richard would have bet they were very seldom used. The rest of his furniture was clean but used, and Richard got the impression that Dean spent a lot of time at work. He’d wager a guess that the bedroom a probably a bit more lived-in.

His couch was wonderfully cozy though, and Richard cuddled down into it while the blond hunted for the remote for his gloriously large television. Once he found it he pressed it into Richard’s hands.

“You pick something from Netflix and I’ll get the pizza on the go. Pepperoni and cheese sound good?”

Richard replied in the affirmative and Dean made the call down the hall, presumably in his bedroom. In the meantime, Richard began to browse the Netflix selection. He found the Disney version of Beauty and the Beast in the recently watched tab and he wondered if he had brought that on. It looked especially strange when Richard scrolled down through the rest of the history. In the past week Dean had watched nothing besides Beauty and the Beast and assortment of movies with homosexual relationships between men being the main theme.

Was Dean trying to come out to him? Surely he knew Richard had the idea when they were making out and nearly fucking through their clothes only the night before. Maybe he was just trying to freak Richard out? Or perhaps he legitimately spent his time watching gay romance films? Dean was a wild card, and for whatever reason Richard was entirely okay with being with someone so unpredictable.

He was quick to move back to the categories screen when he heard Dean coming back down the hall. The blond flopped down on the couch next to Richard and Richard focused on the screen but still knew Dean was watching him.

“Indecisive. I’m not surprised; you’re so skittish I would have been shocked if you’d made a firm decision.” Dean chuckled and Richard kind of wanted to smack that smug smirk off his face. Or kiss it. Or smack it then kiss it. Yes.

“Shut your stupid mouth,” Richard said without further thought, and felt already dumb for saying it. Dean looked surprised though, and Richard was pleased. “You want a firm decision? I’ll give you a firm decision.”

And with that, he clicked back to the recently watched tab and selected the first film on the list – Brokeback Mountain – with determination. Dean stayed more level than Richard thought he would and the Brit knew Dean had planned for him to see that, the awful little Kiwi _bastard_. But Richard was determined. It was gay cowboy time.

-

Surprisingly emotional gay cowboy time. Whether it was just the heartbreaking nature of the movie or because Richard could sympathize with the characters so strongly (he theorized that Jack Twist was secretly his spirit animal), but for whatever reason Richard was bawling as the credits rolled.

“Oh, Rich,” Dean cooed, gently pulling the bigger man against his chest. One arm strayed wrapped around him, rubbing his shoulder, while his free hand carded through the longish hair at the back of Richard’s head and massaged at the base of his skull.

Richard bawled into Dean’s shirt for much longer than he’d care to admit. Dean was wonderful and held him as he cried himself out, telling him softly that everything was okay and that they’d watch something happier next. In that moment Richard was tempted to babble about Graham and his miserable excuse for a relationship, because maybe Dean could take even that in stride and hold Richard and make it okay.

He didn’t, though. Just sobbed until he was composed enough to look up and Dean’s reaction almost had him crying again. Dean was biting his lip hard and his face was red all over. His eyes were glassy and tears were getting caught in his fair lashes and streaking down his cheeks when he blinked. He was a weeping angel and Richard couldn’t not kiss him.

At that exact moment there was a yelp from the doorway and a blonde woman juggling a set of keys and a box of pizza was suddenly there. Richard jumped back against the arm of the couch like a cat who had fallen victim to the dreaded spray bottle. Besides being a little red in the cheeks, Dean was only slightly embarrassed. He got up from the couch and went over to the woman, taking the pizza from her. “Fern. I thought I told you to knock.”

“I did,” the woman replied tersely. She was very pretty with her precise blonde bob and her accent (Richard hoped little sister and not ex-girlfriend from back home) and she gave Dean attitude like Richard wished he could. The Brit decided he liked her. Shame they had to meet this way. “For about two minutes. I assumed you were gone somewhere or… busy in another room.”

“So you planned to get in and get out without me noticing?” Dean asked and Fern gave him a quick little pissed-off-ish nod. “Well, plan failed, Fern. Plan very failed.”

Fern crossed her arms. “Right. Your pizza is here. Anything else? Actually,” she pursed her lips and turned to head to the door. “no. If there’s anything else, the answer is no. I’m _not_ going to get you condoms again.”

“Wait, wait, _Fern_ ,” Dean stammered, scrambling across his apartment to stop her by the door. He dug his wallet out of his jacket pocket where it was hung up by the door and pressed a couple of bills into her hand. “I’m sorry. I really appreciate this. I’ll pick up coffee for you on Monday?”

Fern nodded and still looked irritated but when Dean pressed their cheekbones together and kissed the air beside her ear, she was smiling a tiny bit. “I’ll see you, Dean. Have a good weekend.”

“Safe journey home. Thank you again,” he said as she left his apartment and he hurried back to the pizza, picked it up, and brought it to Richard.

Dean opened the box and retrieved a slice, looking very pleased. It wasn’t until Dean urged him to take a slice and put on Thor (when he decided it was a movie that wouldn’t make Richard cry) that Richard asked; “So who is she?”

“Her? That’s Natalie Portman, she’s Thor’s girlfriend-“

“Not _her_. The woman who just walked in on us making out!” Richard yelped, and Dean shushed him so he could focus on a certain shirtless Asgardian blond. As soon as Chris Hemsworth covered his mouthwatering chest, Dean regarded Richard again.

“That is Fern. She’s my personal assistant. My favourite pizza place is on the other end of the city, very close to her house.”

“So she wasn’t your usual delivery girl? I thought she was dressed too nicely to be a pizza girl.”

“She’s my delivery girl when I want her to be. Pizza girl, coffee girl, office girl, carry-my-stuff girl, file-my-notes girl, call-the-important-people girl. She’s a doll and she’s my brain and she’s saved my business on more than one occasion. So no, she’s more than that. I’d be lost without her.”

“I like her-“

“You’d better or we wouldn’t be able to keep going out. Or in. Whatever.”

“I _do_. Though I’m inclined to feel a little jealous.”

“Of _Fern_? Don’t be. You should know she’s not my type.” He finished his slice of pizza and wiped his hands clean on a napkin before stroking Richard’s faintly scruffy jaw. “She’s missing a few qualities I like and she’s endowed with certain others I’m not interested in at all.”

“That’s comforting,” Richard mumbled, turning his attention back to the television and watching with the small reserve of attention he had left that wasn’t already occupied by being anxious.

Dean didn’t push it, though. He just sat hip-to-hip with Richard and watched the movie. When he finished eating his fill of the pizza, he put his arm across the back of the couch and let it rest over Richard’s shoulders gently. He didn’t nudge or hint at Richard flirtaciously and Richard couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed himself so much on a date.

-

When the movie was done and they’d watched the first half an hour of the Dark Knight (Richard accused Dean of having a Heath Ledger fetish which he didn’t even bother to deny) and Richard was nearly falling asleep on Dean’s shoulder, Dean patted his thigh and said; “Alright, Rich. Time to go home.”

Richard blinked up at Dean and sat up, slumping back into the couch and scrubbing at his face with his hands. “Yes. Sorry.”

Dean got up and coaxed Richard to his feet, helping him into his jacket and packing up the leftover pizza for him. He silenced Richard’s protests with a chaste kiss and insisted that it was no problem.

The bus trip home passed in a trance and without even realizing his feet had brought him there, he was at his apartment. He tried his key and for whatever reason it didn’t work. He squinted at the cursed key and the just-as-evil doorknob and realization hit him like a bus.

He leaned against the doorframe of Graham’s flat and sobbed as quietly as he could.


	6. Magical Date Weekend (that heals all wounds) Part 1

                Richard almost forgot about Graham that weekend. Almost. Dean kept him busy though, since whenever he wasn’t working or sleeping, he was spending time getting lunch or breakfast or walking around with Dean.

 

                The Saturday morning Richard slept in much longer than he meant to, and when he finally did get up he didn’t even have time to shower before he had to hurry off to work. The first break they took in rehearsal sat with his two best friends, James and Lee, and chatted while they gulped down strong coffee and ate doughnuts.

 

                They chatted about what was good on TV lately and Richard took a moment to check his phone as it buzzed. It was quickly snatched from him by another friend, Jed, as he walked past. Richard frowned and held his hand out for it. The boys (Jed and James especially) liked to bother Richard to try and get him riled up, but he’d learned that if he didn’t react it wasn’t as fun. “Please give it back, Jed.”

 

                Jed ignored him for a moment and looked at Richard’s messages. He looked uninterested for a moment before he was grinning and hooting. “Tricky Dick! Who’s Dean?”

 

                “Nobody,” Richard replied, though he felt his flush and knew it betrayed him. “A friend.”

 

                “A friend who calls you gorgeous and sends you winky faces?” Jed asked, grinning like the wily creature he was.

 

                “Wait wait wait,” James held up his hand to halt the exchange. “Winky faces? Pet names? Does our baby Richie have a _boyfriend_?”

 

                “No – well, er, sort of? He’s-“

 

                “So you’re done with Graham?” Lee asked quietly, then apologized for interrupting and sipped at his tea. The only American in their little group and he was the only one drinking tea.

 

                “No. It’s complicated and I’d rather not get into it-“

 

                “You’re not boffing both of them, are you?” James asked, extreme eyebrows raised. He made grabby hands at Jed until the Kiwi handed the phone over. “You don’t seem like the juggling-two-guys type.”

 

                “I’m _not_. Like I said, it’s _complicated_ -“

 

                “Holy shit,” James gasped, clutching the phone and staring at it like it had just flipped him off. “ _Your_ Dean is Dean _O’Gorman_?!”

 

                “Really?” Lee asked, looking over James’ shoulder. “Dean O’Gorman is flirting with you? Swanky.”

 

                “Not flirting. We’ve been on a couple dates.”

 

                “Those must have been ritzy.” Jed commented around a mouthful of doughnut. “Bet you put out after that.”

 

                “Yeah, how do you not fuck a bloke who drops that kind of cash on you?” James remarked.

 

                “It’s called self-respect,” Richard mumbled.

 

                “So you haven’t slept with him but you’re still with Graham?” Lee asked.

 

                “No, Lee, Rich was never _with_ Graham. Rich’s just Graham’s occasional shag on the side.” James said, tone that of helpful correction.

 

                “More than occasional, judging by how Rich limps some days,” Jed commented.

 

                “You sure know how to ruin someone’s good day,” Richard sighed, getting his phone back from James and stalking off.

 

                Lee followed him to try and give him his cup of coffee and he was nowhere to be found. The American regretted having to tell Peter that his Beast had split, but not as much as he regretted how hurt Richard had looked.

 

-

 

                _got out of work early. are you free?_

_for you, always_

 

-

 

                “Did you actually have free time, or did you blow off something important to see me?” Richard asked.

 

                Dean shrugged. “Nothing Fern can’t handle.”

 

                “It sounds to me like this woman needs a Deantervention.”

 

                “People could say the same about you. We’ve spent every bit of our spare time together since we went on Thursday night. Don’t you have anything better to do?”

 

                Richard flushed. “I’ve been going to work too, you know.”

 

                “Apparently not, since you left so early today. Any particular reason for that?”

 

                “They didn’t need the Beast today,” Richard mumbled, and Dean’s hand slid down to take his and squeeze it.

 

                “I think the Beast needs some hearty diner mac and cheese,” Dean said, tone light and hopeful. “My treat. Cheapest place we can find, I promise.”

 

                “I don’t like mac and cheese.”

 

                “We can get ice cream after.”

 

                “Make it French fries and ice cream and I’m yours,” Richard said and Dean grinned at him at off they went.

 

-

 

                When the cute waitress took them to their table and took their orders Richard ordered his fries and Dean ordered his mac and cheese and they sat sipping Cokes and trying not to stare too openly at each other. When their waitress came back with their food they thanked her and continued their discussion.

 

                “So tonight I’m actually _not_ free. There’s a work thing I can’t get out of _but_ I have various activities to occupy you between work sessions, if you’re interested.” Dean sounded heart-wrenchingly hopeful and Richard wanted nothing but to spend his weekend with Dean so he said yes.

 

                “Will I get any details on where we’re going for these activities?” Richard asked though he knew what the answer was. “Should’ve known better than to ask that.”

 

                “Yeah, you should have. I promise you’ll enjoy it.” Dean smiled and Richard wholeheartedly believed him.

 

-

 

                Richard woke the next morning to a text from Dean asking him what time he got done his rehearsal. Richard answered and Dean texted _alright, i’ll meet you outside your work to pick you up. wear comfy shoes, we’re gonna be walking_ and Richard texted him back _okay_.

 

                The rehearsal went well and at the end of it as he was leaving the changeroom  he was intercepted by Lee. The American was all smiles and happy raised eyebrows as he fell into step with Richard and tucked his script away in his bag.

 

                “Hey, Richard! Nice Beasting today! How are you doing?”

 

                “A lot better than yesterday,” Richard replied sheepishly. The other boys had apologized already about bugging him so much (probably because Peter had put them through a hellish rehearsal as a result of them driving away his Beast) and Lee had been particularly sincere. “How about you? The guys didn’t bug you, did they?”

 

                “No. Not really. You know they don’t just want to upset you. They just don’t know when to stop.” Lee pulled his jacket on and sunk down onto the step beside where Richard was sitting. “They just have a strange way of being friends.”

 

                “Strange indeed. Do they ever bug you about your love life?”

 

                “If I had one, I’d imagine they would,” Lee replied and they both chuckled. “It’s unfair of them to jump on your new... relationship... _thing_ , when you’re not even sure of it yet yourself.”

 

                Richard shrugged. “If I was aware of how famous Dean is and I found out you were with him, I’d want details. Though I don’t think I’d be so persistent and annoying about it as the guys are.”

 

                “Yeah. I think it’d be a miracle if anyone was as bad as them, though.” They laughed together again. Silence fell between them after that, but with the way Lee fidgeted and gnawed on his lip Richard could tell he wanted to say something.

 

                “Lee, are you-“

 

                “Have you slept with Dean, Richard?” Lee blurted out and Richard was so spooked he didn’t answer. Lee panicked, and his eyes were desperate when he looked up at Richard. “Please tell me you haven’t. _Please_.”

 

                “No, no. Lee, I haven’t,” Richard said and Lee barely calmed down. “I swear. It almost happened but I haven’t. I promise, Lee. Believe me, I’m not that kind of person.”

 

                “But you _are_ ,” Lee scrubbed at his face with his hands. “That’s exactly how you got with Graham and we all know how well that’s going.”

 

                “Are you-“ Richard got to his feet and stared down at his friend. “ _Lee_! You of all people!”

 

                Lee realized his mistake the second the words left him. He got up and tried to console Richard, to apologize, but the Brit swatted his hand aside. “Richard-“

 

                “No, Lee. Don’t. Don’t touch me and don’t talk to me.” Richard turned and stormed off down the street. “God forbid I should have even _one_ friend who doesn’t judge every little thing I do!”

 

                Lee dropped back onto the step and buried his face in his hands, sobbing.

 

-

 

                Dean picked Richard up at a coffee shop on the corner where he sat shaking and clutching a cup of coffee. He went inside and comforted Richard, rubbing his shoulders and asking him what happened. Richard was vague, said he had a bad day and Dean didn’t push it.

 

                “Do you still want to go out today? We can take it easy at my place or yours and watch movies or something,” Dean suggested, but Richard recalled the last time they had watched movies together and he didn’t know if he could handle more bawling today.

 

                “No, I’m curious about what you have planned for our date so we’re definitely spending the day together,” Richard said, grinning. He felt better already being with Dean and he could feel his troubles falling behind him.

 

                “Alright. As soon as you’re done your coffee we’ll start our adventure,” Dean looked delighted at the thought of starting said adventure and Richard knew he was going to have a lovely weekend.

 

-

 

                The art gallery Dean took Richard to was pleasant enough, but listening to Dean talk about art was so much better. He was passionate and gorgeous and so knowledgeable.

 

                They strolled through the corridors of the gallery and as they approached the gift shop Dean took Richard’s hand and tugged him down a new corridor that the gallery tour signs hadn’t directed them on.

 

                “I have a surprise for you,” Dean said as he stopped in front of a painting, cocking his head towards it. “Look.”

 

                Richard did, and he was stunned speechless. It depicted a sandy island in the middle of a deep blue ocean. Silhouetted by a red-orange sunset was a solitary object on the island; a bed with tousled covers and a pale figure tangled up in the sheets, supposedly asleep. Richard wasn’t an art expert by any means but he felt like the art was of wonderful quality. The deepness of the blue resonated in him and there was something relatable and familiar to Richard. He glanced down at the placard next to the painting to see the artist’s name and his eyes flicked up to Dean in disbelief.

 

                “You...?”

 

                “Yeah. Thought you might like to see some of my work. Last time I showed you you were a bit drunk.”

 

                “A bit,” Richard conceded. He looked back at the painting. “You’re really good.”

 

                “You can take a bit of credit. You inspired it,” He squeezed Richard’s hand and continued. “I painted this the night after our first dinner together. I was itching to paint after I dropped you off the next morning and the second I got home after work I bolted to my studio and churned this out. I’d been in a slump, I just wasn’t feeling artistic, when you came along and got in my head and all I wanted to do is paint and sketch and photograph everything, especially you.”

 

                Richard couldn’t take his eyes off the painting, entranced by the depth of the blue. When he looked up Dean was staring purposefully at him and he averted his gaze to the painting again. The figure on the bed was beautiful and peaceful and... “Wait, Dean... i-is that-“

 

                “Yes. It’s you. You’re my island in the center of a deep dark pit of uncertainty. The one fixed point that my life revolves around. I hope this doesn’t scare you, but I adore you.”

 

                “Are you... sure?” Richard asked. He doubted he could have ever come up with anything more intelligent to say to that ever.

 

                “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. And I know we’ve only been seeing each other for a few days but I’ve never felt anything like this before. There is never a second I doubt my feelings for you.” He choked up very slightly and Richard felt awkward and couldn’t look him in the eye. Dean laughed shakily and scrubbed at his eyes. “I love you, Richard. More than anything.”

 

                “I-I... don’t know what to do with that information.” Richard remarked, absently.

 

                “You don’t have to do anything or say anything. I just want you to know and keep talking to me and not hate me.”

 

                “I don’t hate you, Dean,” Richard said, though he didn’t follow up so Dean continued

 

 “Want to go get ice cream?”

 

                Richard nodded and Dean pecked him on the lips and lead him to the exit of the gallery.

 

-

 

                Dean handed Richard his gloriously large chocolate ice cream cone and Richard accepted it with an almost unusual amount of enthusiasm. As he ate it, careful not to drop it on his pristine gray cardigan, Dean nudged him. “Are you okay?”

 

                “Yeah. I guess,” Richard shrugged. “Ice cream’s making me feel better. Thanks for that.”

 

                “No problem, mate,” Dean said, smiling sheepishly. He sucked on his own cherry popsicle and Richard coughed and looked away.

 

                “So where are we going now?” Richard asked after a few minutes’ worth of comfortable silence. “It’s a bit early for dinner yet.”

 

                “I was thinking we could go to the park and I could do some sketches of you. You could do some of me too, if you’d like.”

 

                “I’m not much of an artist,” Richard admitted. “But if you can get past my gawky limbs and harsh nose, then sure.”

 

                “I happen to love your gorgeous long limbs and your sexy angular nose, so it’d be my pleasure to try and put your stunning features down on paper,” Dean waited for Richard to be unoccupied by his ice cream and he stretched to kiss him. Dean’s lips were chilled from the popsicle. Richard couldn’t help sneaking his tongue out to taste the sticky sweet cherry-flavoured syrup straight from his lips. His own chocolate was better, but kissing Dean was always at the top of his priority list.

 

                Dean made a pleased sound and moved into the kiss, sliding his fingers into Richard’s hair. He smiled against Richard’s lips and they parted, blue eyes meeting.

 

                “The park?” Richard asked, pulling back and clearing his throat.

 

                Dean got to his feet and tossed his popsicle stick in the garbage. He held a hand out to Richard, who took it and stood, munching on his ice cream cone.

 

-

 

                The park has been lovely and it had lead to Dean taking Richard to dinner and charming him back to his place (his time without wine and with kisses). Another session of making out on the couch later and Richard was sure, so sure, begging Dean to take his clothes off and make him scream.

 

                Dean paused often and asked if he was alright with each step he took. The choppy breaks in the action were irritating Richard and he got rapidly more impatient.

 

                “I’m not gonna break, Dean,” Richard growled, rolling them over and putting himself on top. Dean grinned up at him and ran his hands up Richard’s thighs, stroking his hipbones gently.

 

                “You’re on top. You direct things then,” Dean said, squeezing Richard’s hips. “Then we’ll move at your speed.”

 

                “Alright,” Richard said. He sat up straighter and stripped his shirt off over his head. The movement tilted his pelvis and rubbed his rear against Dean’s dick. It also provided Dean with a very nice visual as his muscles flexed and stretched.

 

                Once topless, Richard laid his front against Dean’s, stretching his torso over the blond’s. He kissed Dean soundly and began rocking their bodies together, moaning into his mouth. “D-Dean, please, n-need you...”

 

                Dean stroked his hand down, palming his cock through his underwear, but Richard shook his head. “N-no, Dean... your fingers, p-please...”

 

                “Are you sure?” Dean asked and Richard nodded, rocking against him again.

 

                “ _Please_ , Dean,” Richard whimpered and Dean didn’t have it in him to deny him.

 

                Dean managed to get two fingers inside Richard, pumping into him hard and making him buck and writhe and moan. To Richard it felt perfect and right and he was embarrassingly close to coming when for whatever reason he thought of what Lee had said to him earlier.

 

                He wrestled with the thought for a moment. Spite made him want to do it even more, to fuck away all his problems in a hot sweaty night of sin and orgasms. But deep down something else told him Lee was right; he was just a slut and if he moved too fast with Dean, like he was destined to do, he would fuck things up prematurely and ruin yet another relationship with a man who was crazy about him. Surprisingly Graham barely registered in his mind as he thought about this, but ultimately it was Lee’s words that had him squeezing Dean’s arm and asking him to stop.

 

                Dean froze and looked up at Richard. He looked worried, a little on the scared side. “Am I hurting you?”

 

                “N-no, I just... need more time,” Richard said and Dean carefully pulled his fingers free from Richard’s body. Richard regretted having to have those wonderful fingers leave him; he missed the fullness and the nudging pressure against his prostate. He yearned for Dean’s cock, practically drooled over it as he felt it pressing against him.

 

                He curled up on top of Dean and thought about his life and his relationships and how much it physically ached not to be able to have Dean in every conceivable position until they collapsed in an exhausted satisfied heap as the sun rose. The blond cuddled him close and stroked his back in silence until he succumbed to the warmth and comfort and fell into a restless slumber.


	7. Magical Date Weekend (that heals all wounds) Part 2

Richard woke up to a warm cup of coffee and a breakfast sandwich on a bagel. He knew Dean hadn’t cooked it, but he appreciated in anyway. As he sipped his coffee and picked the lettuce off his sandwich (it was slimy and gross though the sandwich was lovely besides it), Dean slipped into the bed next to him and snuggled up against his side.

“Good morning,” he murmured, brushing kisses over Richard’s shoulder.

Richard ate his sandwich quietly, and enjoyed the cuddly blond at his side. “Good morning. What’s on the schedule for today?”

“It’s a surprise,” Dean said and Richard really thought he probably should have guessed that.

“Is it expensive?” Richard asked and Dean chuckled.

“A little. Consider it a gift. You work hard and deserve a treat once in a while.”

“Every time I see you is a treat,” Richard mumbled, and Dean beamed up at him. He realized how it sounded and flushed deeply. He didn’t take it back though.

Dean smiled and kissed Richard, nibbling on his lip and gently pressing him into the bed. After making out for a moment, Dean pulled back and Richard blinked up at him. When Richard took in the goofy smile on Dean’s face, he couldn’t help but grin back.

“Alright, up. Before I keep you in bed all day,” Dean stroked Richard’s cheek fondly, then rolled off the edge of the bed and got to his feet. He was fully dressed and Richard borrowed under the blanket, feeling incredibly underdressed in just his underwear. Dean wasn’t having it though, yanking the blanket off and flinging it to the floor at the foot of the bed. Richard curled in on himself when the warm blanket was pulled away and Dean just playfully swatted him on the butt, grin cheeky. “Come on. I wanna take you to lunch. I’m really feeling fish and chips, d’you know any good places?”

Richard buried his face in the pillow and mumbled something about a diner on the lower east side, then crawled mournfully out of bed. Dean’s cell rang and he answered it, and Richard got up and went to take a shower. A few minutes in, Dean joined him and Richard tensed up before Dean touched him gently, arms wrapped around his torso and cheek leaned against his shoulderblade. He kept the contact as neutral as he could, only helping Richard wash his chest and his back, letting him wash all the more intimate places.

Dean hummed in appreciation when Richard returned the favour, and he may have spent more time running his fingers through Dean’s soapy chest hair than was strictly necessary. He played with Dean’s nipples a little and Dean groaned and leaned into Richard’s collarbone.

“I think we need to get out of the shower now. You’re way too distracting,” Dean said, and Richard flushed with pleasure.

-

Dean took Richard to an old playhouse on the edge of town (one Richard had checked out many times but had never been to) and they went to see another company’s version of Beauty and the Beast. Dean held his hand all the way through and didn’t push any further contact. The only time he’d ever gone to see any kind of show with Graham, it had been the big cinema downtown and Graham had periodically rubbed his cock through his trousers to the point where they hadn’t made it through the movie and barely to the alley behind the theatre before Richard was spreading his legs for Graham against a wall.

The way Dean treated Richard was a far sight classier than Graham had, and once the play was done Dean brought him a drink at the theatre’s bar and they discussed the show and how it was different from Richard’s. Dean was surprisingly observant and good at talking about the play, and Richard might have been embarrassingly turned on by it.

They hung around the theatre until Dean said; “Come on. I’ve got some people I’d like you to meet.” and took his hand to lead him outside. The winter was wearing on and the night was frigid when they left the theatre. Richard shivered and Dean squeezed his hand.

“You should get a proper jacket,” Dean said, reaching up and turning up the collar of Richard’s woolly but think peacoat so it covered the back of his neck. His hands lingered on Richard’s skin, up the sides of his neck to cup his jaw. He got up on his toes to kiss the chilly tip of Richard’s nose. “Maybe I’ll want to take care of you a little less if you’d do it yourself.”

“I can’t afford another jacket. Which is not an invitation to buy me one, before you go ahead and do that,” he toyed with the sleeves of his jacket. “Plus my mum gave it to me a few years ago and it hasn’t failed me yet.”

“First chance I get, I’m burning it,” Dean said, glaring at the jacket darkly. “Then you won’t have a choice.”

“I’ll just freeze,” Richard said and Dean took his hand again and lead him off wherever they were headed.

“You know I wouldn’t let you freeze. I’d take you in like a lost puppy,” Dean said and Richard flushed.

“I can take care of myself,” he mumbled. Dean just smiled and pulled him off the street and into a sushi restaurant that Richard had never been to. It wasn’t that he couldn’t afford it (though some of the places downtown were out of his budget range), it was more that none of his friends liked sushi and he felt like a loser going alone. He nearly started hyperventilating when Dean lead him past the empty booths and over to a table full of people. Dean stopped them at the arched doorway to the dining room and looked up at him.

“Richard, these are my friends,” Dean said, reaching up to place his hands on Richard’s shoulders and gently squeeze.”Is this alright? It it’s too much, we can go somewhere else. They can have dinner without me.”

“No, this is alright,” Richard lied. Inside, he was flipping his shit. “Just a surprise, is all...”

“Alright,” Dean said, reaching down and taking his hand again and pulling him over to the table.

When they stopped at the end of the table a chorus of voices greeted them (namely Dean) and with some degree of shifting and shuffling, two seats were freed up for them and they took them. Richard was introduced to them, and they to him; first Jared, Emmett, Tim, Ben, Aidan, and Fern – though Fern reminded Dean that they had met back at Dean’s flat and Richard flushed while the rest of the group laughed.

“We were only kissing,” Dean piped up in Richard’s defense, and Richard got a moment’s reprieve when the waiter came to pour him a glass of water and take their order.

“So you’re Deano’s boyfriend?” asked one of the men sitting across from them – Jared? Richard wasn’t sure. There were seven people there and Dean had made note of a couple people missing when they sat down.

“Not quite,” Richard answered and Dean clearly wanted to argue that point but he didn’t. “We’ve just been going out a bit. Nothing formal about it.”

“Not yet,” Dean added and his friends all chuckled. The ones who could reach clapped him and Richard on their backs and shoulders. Richard just stared down at his water in silence.

Fern, who has been sitting directly across from Richard spoke softly to him while the rest of the group, Dean included, got into a large conversation about films they’d seen lately.

“It’s a lot, but they’re all great people,” she assured him.

“I’d be better tackling them one on one,” Richard said sheepishly.

“Yeah, that’s a bit of a hurricane. But they all love Dean and unless you’re bad to him they’ll love you too.”

“I don’t plan on being bad to him,” Richard said quietly. “But sometimes things happen and you can’t change them.”

Fern eyed him warily and fortunately a round of sushi arrived before she could comment.

-

After dinner Dean bid his friends goodbye with hugs and kisses all around and walked Richard to the bus stop and rode with him to the terminal. During the ride Dean held his hand and Richard asked him where he knew all those people from.

“I work with Jared, Emmett, Tim, Ben, and Fern,” Dean replied. “Aidan is one of my best friends, I met him when I first moved here. We worked together as waiters as a diner. We also dated for a few months.”

“You... dated Aidan?” Richard asked. He thought back to the cheery curly-haired Irishman at the sushi place and frowned. He was gorgeous and Richard felt suddenly even more self-conscious than usual.

“Yeah, but he was always wanting to be with other people so we broke up and then we did a friends-with-benefits kind of thing until pretty recently. I dated Jared, too. Back home. We nearly got engaged but then I moved. He’s with Fern now though, so all’s well and all that.”

“You were engaged to Jared,” Richard said, voice free of inflection with his shock. He scratched at his jaw with his free hand and stared at the floor. “Just how many of your exes do you hang out with?”

“Not many. Just the Turners, and Adam who had to work today, and Ryan who is visiting his mum,” Dean replied, watching Richard’s avoidant behaviour and frowning. “What, you’re not friends with exes?”

“Only one. And she’s pretty much my sister at this point,” Richard replied. “She’s a childhood friend that I dated when I was trying to convince myself and my friends and family that I was straight. You can tell how well that went.”

Dean chuckled. “If you were straight, that would have been a damn tragedy.”

Richard didn’t comment on that, just sat and stared at the floor. As far as catches went, this wasn’t that bad when weighed against all of Dean’s positive traits.

In fact, the more he thought about it the more he wondered why he was still with Graham. He didn’t even need to worry about being alone and unwanted now, because here he had a near-perfect man who was not his boyfriend (“yet”) but had every intention of changing that. Perhaps he needed this different attitude of having someone truly want him, all of him, to see that he doesn’t need to settle for someone who hides him and is ashamed of him? He had a proper lens to look through now to see just how shallow and superficial his relationship (if it could ever be called that) with Graham is. His heart skipped a beat when he thinks that finally (finally!) he might have the courage to leave Graham and pursue someone who is genuinely crazy about him.

He smiled and leaned over in his seat to kiss Dean again and again, silly little pecks to his jaw and nose and cheeks and eventually his mouth.

“What’s gotten into you?” Dean laughed and put his arms around Dean. He kissed Richard firmly and pulled back to press their foreheads together. He nuzzled his nose playfully against Richard’s. “Whatever it is, I like it.”

“I just realized,” Richard said slowly, eyes cast down but flicking up to regard Dean occasionally. He offered Dean a little smile and said; “that I love you.”

Dean sat surprised for a moment, mouth dropped open in an incredibly beautiful little ‘o’ and Richard was pleased to stoop down and kiss it off him. Dean faltered for a moment, but soon he was smiling against Richard’s mouth and kissing him back, pushing him against the window in a manner far from appropriate on a bus.

“Come home with me tonight,” Richard panted once they parted and he could swear that Dean channeled the very sun with the brightness of the smile he gave Richard in return. Richard kissed him smiling mouth again before he got an answer out.

“Not tonight, Rich,” Dean said and Richard’s chest hurt at the refusal. Dean was quick to take Richard’s hands and reassure him. “I can promise you, I want to. But I don’t want you to fall into bed with me just because you’ve realized your feelings for me. I want you to think it through and be really sure about it before we get properly together. Give it a day and when you’ve given it more consideration, I’m all yours.”

Richard frowned a little and narrowed his eyes at Dean. “Twenty-four hours?”

“Twenty-four hours,” Dean replied, pulling Richard in for another kiss as his stop came into view. “Now get going. Call me tomorrow at this time and I’ll be over as fast as I can and naked once I get in the door.”

“Clear your schedule tomorrow night,” Richard said, voice dark and full of promise and it was so hard to let Richard go after that remark, but Dean forced himself to. Richard removed himself from Dean’s embrace and went to get off the bus. At the door, he turned back and blew Dean a kiss before he stepped off the bus.

Dean made an exaggerated motion of catching the kiss and pressing it to his mouth before Richard was out of sight. He texted Richard a heart as soon as the bus left the stop, then settled in for the rest of the ride back home.

-

Richard didn’t check his phone until he was home and had flopped dreamily on his couch. He flicked through the texts he’d missed – mostly from Jed and Lee, but he was shocked to find two texts from Graham. And neither of them were asking to meet up for sex.

hey rich, you haven’t texted me at all this weekend and that’s not like you, but i’m just worried. shoot me a text, was the first. The second was are you ignoring me? where are you? Richard snuggled down on his couch and tapped out a quick reply. sorry i was really busy all weekend. was yours good?

Not a minute later Richard’s phone buzzed insistently and he answered it.

“Graham?”

“Richard. Did you have a good weekend?”

“Uh – yeah. Spent most of it with this new friend I just made,” Richard replied. “How was yours?”

“It was good. Sandy and the kids are on the plane back now.”

“Oh, good for them.” Richard said.

Graham heaved a long sigh and asked, “Who is he, Richard?”

“Who, Graham?” Richard asked and in his elevated mood he missed the dark tone of Graham’s voice. “Who do you mean?”

“The cute blond you’ve been holding hands with and eyefucking all weekend,” Graham said and that sobered Richard up instantly.

“Graham, I-“

“Don’t Graham me. I saw you with him three times this weekend. Sandy thought you were stalking us.”

“I was just hanging out with a friend, Graham. Am I not allowed to have friends, now?” Richard didn’t get angry often, but he could feel his irritation building.

“A friend you kiss and hold hands with?” Graham asked. Richard heard the flick of a lighter and a deep inhale from Graham. He was smoking again. Richard wondered if he had ever truthfully quit in the first place. “Look, Richard. What we have is important to me and I would never do something like this and throw it away. If you want to fuck around then let me know and we can call this off.”

“...you would never do something like this to me?” Richard asked and apparently Graham didn’t catch his disbelieving tone or he wasn’t listening. Probably both.

“No. I wouldn’t. I don’t want to talk about this with you Richard, because I thought you were better than this. You either stop fucking this guy-“

“I never fucked him,” Richard growled.

“Oh, well, in that case you’d better go back and finish the job,” Graham snarled and Richard bit his tongue to keep himself from saying something truly nasty. Graham huffed for a moment before he let out another long breath, probably exhaling a draught of smoke, and continued. “I just thought we had something special, Richard. To see you with some younger cuter guy than me hurt. But if that’s what you want, I can’t do anything to stop you.”

“Graham, I didn’t mean-“

“Whatever. I don’t care what you meant to do or not do. I can’t talk to you about this any longer.”

“But Graham-“ Richard tried to stammer out more garbled words but Graham spat out one last venomous statement before he hung up and either turned off his phone or blocked Richard’s number.

“It’s either me or him, Richard. Make your choice.”


End file.
